


A waltz of dragons and wolves.

by HP_of_the_North



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged up Viserys Targaryen, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, And I'm in no mood to get into a fight, And can you honestly blame him?, And definitely not in the TV show, BAMF Elia Martell, BAMF Ned Stark, Because you and I will both get annoyed and aggravated, Brother-Sister Relationships, But Elia is THE queen. If you know what I mean, DANCE OF DRAGONS 2.0, Dark Daenerys Targaryen, Dark Rhaegar Targaryen, Dark Viserys Targaryen, Don't comment on the story if you want them to be heroes in the end, Dragons, Elia Martell Lives, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Following book rules, He married Lyanna making her the second queen, He was like 16 when he married Cersei, He's very sarcastic and quite cold to his sister in this, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Lyanna Stark Lives, Mother-Son Relationship, Ned Stark acting like Theon Greyjoy's parental figure, Ned is not a walking doormat, Not in the books (except Rhaella and Elia and her children and Aemon), Rhaegar Targaryen Being an Asshole, Rhaegar Targaryen Being an Idiot, Rhaegar is not nice, Sister-Sister Relationship, So Rhaegar can't get an annullment, So he's 30 when the story starts same as Cersei, Them's just the facts, This isn't Targaryen friendly, War, Warging, Yes I count Theon as a Stark, You like the Targaryens? Great! Super! You do you! But I don't, cersei being cersei, direwolves, i do this for fun, okay? okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28464771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HP_of_the_North/pseuds/HP_of_the_North
Summary: The bells ring out across the land, a coup has taken place, the king is dead and his children have scattered.Now, stuck in Winterfell with a bitter wolf pack, the last Targaryens will stumble over themselves, making plans for a rebellion in a war they never asked for. Loyalties are tested, family ties strengthen and weaken, dragons awaken, wolves race below the walls and love grows like weeds.
Relationships: Aegon VI Targaryen & Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Catelyn Tully Stark & her children, Elia Martell & Aegon VI Targaryen, Elia Martell & Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen (Past), Jon Snow & Lyanna Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen (past), Ned Stark & his children
Comments: 168
Kudos: 134





	1. Viserys I

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! As I said in the tags above I despise King Aerys's children. I hate them and therefore if you've got a boner for a queen with a fire fetish, slaves and a sadistic rage along with being a hypocrite then you may saunter right the fuck back out. This story was very clearly tagged as well as me warning you in the very first chapter. If you ignore this and continue reading despite what I've said then all I can assume is that you're looking for a fight.
> 
> And I'm not in the mood to get into one on a story that I love. I see you lurking in the comment section you're getting deleted. You have been warned and I won't say it again. Any Dany fans clear off.
> 
> Now, Rhaegar won the war, so Elia, her children, Lyanna and Jon are all still very much alive in this story. But Jaime Lannister, Rhaella Targaryen and Aerys are all dead, Cersei was ordered to marry Viserys as a way to fix the rift between the two families and Tywin had no say in this. But don't worry his evil little mind was already turning. Viserys got aged up quite a bit. He was sixteen when his brother married him off. Therefore Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen are true born Targaryens. Okay? Okay!
> 
> And also, because of the deaths of his brother and father because of a war his sister of all people started, Ned is not the biggest fan of his sister. In fact he's down right cold and sarcastic. But given the circumstances, tell me honestly if you actually would've stood by your sister had you been in Ned's shoes. Though, he's above blaming his nephew for everything. And Ned might be honorable but he's also very human. He was literally forced into a position he was never trained for, was given custody of his younger brother who was just a boy, like 10, and married to a woman he didn't know. And his best friend was killed in a rebellion he fought in for Ned and his lives as well as for Lyanna. This is a mix of the show and book. So Lyanna went willingly with Ratgar but she was pretty much manipulated into it, he promised her all sorts of things. So, while in the beginning she's very much a petty brat playing at war. She'll learn soon that Rhaegar never loved her, I don't think he ever loved anything, not even his children. He was more in love of the idea of his perfect prophecy with his kids being the conquerors reborn. You can't tell me that you seriously think Rhaegar was gonna be happy with another son? No, he wanted a daughter and had he lived I would've been incredibly surprised if he even bothered with Jon at all instead of placing him to the side and hunting down another woman to give him his Visenya and the only reason he didn't was because he died.
> 
> Anyway, Ned's got a hell of a lot of reason to dislike her, and he's gonna show how displeased he is. Just saying.

Kingslanding was beautiful at night. That's something he'd never get tired of, the way Black Water Bay spread out beneath his room. And how the stars winked on the glassy surface beneath him. The sun burnt brightly as the last of its rays sunk behind the walls that surrounded Flea Bottom. You wouldn't think with how serene the capital looked that a family was going to die tonight, be it to flame or sword. He supposed he could've felt sorry for them if he had any ounce of love left in him for his older brother. His mouth set in place as disgust burnt through him. His big brother, perfect Rhaegar with his long and flowing hair, perfect Rhaegar whose calluses even had the indecency of looking like royalty. His perfect brother, with his shiny harp and melodic voice. Perfect Rhaegar who stood by and watched as his mother was abused and raped. How could he stare at the bruises and scratches marring her porcelain skin and still stand by his father with his ever peaceful smile that twisted up his too perfect, too handsome face that he wanted to watch crack and splinter as blood trailed down his cheeks. At least he had tried, even if it had earned him his scars on his back from the barbed whips. But it'd been worth it, at least it'd saved his mother from another night of torment. But the thing he hated most of all his brother's too perfect features were his hands. Sure, they had scratches and scars on them from battles he had won over the years. But they were too clean for a monster who had culled thousands of people in his half-baked delusional dream of prophecy and grandeur. They should be stained and dripping, showing the world what should be his greatest shame. And yet, just like the rest of him. They were glossed over.

"Your Grace is handsome tonight." his wife's whispering voice breathed out along the wind that billowed through their shared room, he turned to her and gave her a small smile. After all, she's the reason he'd seen how much better off his people would be if he was on the throne instead.

Cersei Targaryen was dressed in a low cut black dress with the sigils of her houses sewn into the fabric in a complicated stitch, the Myrish lace complimented her golden ringlets and the red thread that made up the dragon on her dress made her green eyes pop and gleam. Viserys never expected to fall for his wife when his brother made the arrangement between the still mourning house and theirs, barely a week after the oldest boy was beheaded for doing his duty to his people (another reason he needed to get rid of Rhaegar and his children). He had thought that Cersei would never love him either, in fact he was certain that nothing would come from their union but bitterness and perhaps a child or two. What he had gotten instead was a wife who was kind, if a little arrogant (though, that he could hardly blame her for, she was a goddess after all. The Maiden reborn) and she had given him three beautiful children, their oldest being born just two years into their marriage. A beautiful boy with hair like molten silver and bright green eyes. Then 5 years later, his princess Myrcella was born, he didn't think he could ever love someone as much as he loved his darling girl with her soft golden curls and sweet lilacs that had the whole of Kingslanding cooing in adoration. And then his little boy had come shortly after, sweet Tommen with his dreams of knighthood, aspirating to be like his Uncle Jaime. It made his heart break slightly whenever someone mentioned his good brother around his wife. Her smile would fall and a haunted sort of hatred would come into her eyes that would only burn brighter if she caught sight of Rhaegar and his good sister Lyanna. Though they were hardly ever together, more oft then not Elia would have to pick up the other queen's slack. The wild wolf girl was a joke even in the most immediate circle of his brother's advisors (though he suspected that Connington hated her for far darker reasons than her foolish ways).

"Well, one should look well on the night of their coronation." he said. His wife smiled and walked towards him, he had memorized that little tick of her painted lips, admired it. Even in his dreams. "Are you ready, my love?"

"Indeed." she said, straightening his handsome jerkin gently and fisting her hands into his silver strands "you'll be a better king then your brother ever was. You'll make a dynasty that they'll remember for generations."

"No dynasty's complete without their queen." he said, smiling at her softly.

"Even though I'm not a sister?" she asked, smiling back at him. It was an old joke of theirs, even though they were planning on marrying his little sister to Joffrey one day, they were practically siblings so Viserys and Cersei had supposed that was close enough.

"Well, I suppose you'll have to do." he snorted as Cersei gave him an overtly offended look and whacked his shoulder. "Oh, you wound me so, my gentle queen."

"Good." she sneered at him playfully. "Who do you plan on killing first?"

"Rhaegar, I'll take great joy in slitting his throat, he's in Elia's chambers tonight." he said, if there was one thing he regretted about this plan, it was the fact that he had to kill his sweet good sister. But Cersei was right, she's far too dangerous to let live.

"A rare sight. Don't underestimate the queen though, she's Oberyn Martell's sister after all. My father's men are nearly here, they'll be here by the waking hours of dawn." she said.

"I know. I won't fail, not tonight."

"Oh, darling, I know." she said, smiling at him sweetly.

-

He waited until the moon was high in the sky before he set down to his brother's chambers he had for Elia's nights, just as their forefather Aegon had for his sister-wives. He wasn't sure why his brother bothered, it's not as if he particularly liked his good sister, in fact, he was sure they even hated each other, given their history and what had led up to the rebellion in the first place. He was also certain that Rhaegar was the only person Elia truly hated. The door creaked softly on its rusty hinge as he opened the door though he didn't particularly care if they were woken, it'd just make his death sweeter. His brother hummed, turning over and pulling Elia into his arms, he hated him for that even more. He despised him for playing with her heart when he had already broken it so many times. First at the tourney, then leaving his half dead wife in a bed of blood to gallivant off with some child from the north, who hadn't a drop of Valyrian blood in her veins, while Elia raised his children by herself for the better part of a year before he broke into the Red Keep with the Lannister forces at his heels. He didn't deserve her sweet heart. He doubted any man would. He grabbed his brother's hair and pulled him around harshly. Rhaegar awoke with a gasp before the sleep had even cleared from his eyes he had slid his knife along his soft throat. And watched, completely emotionless as he choked, his purple eyes wide and betrayal turned in them. Asking him silently 'why?'.

"You're not worthy of the throne. Not after everything you did. People say that you're better than Father. But they're wrong. You're not better, you're just a different kind of monster."

Elia woke at her husband's pathetic grasps for life and looked around her in confusion before her eyes found him and his blood stained knife then her ghostly pale husband with his slash still leaking even though he had stopped breathing. Her eyes became the size of dinner plates and she scrambled backwards off the bed with a scream ripped from her throat.

"Viserys." she choked on her tears as she crawled backwards the more he moved forwards "What have you done?"

"I'm saving my people. He was going to destroy them, they deserve someone who can protect them as a king should. He was a monster Elia, to you more than anyone. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I need to kill you, you were like a mother to me but we all need to sacrifice people." he said. His eyes tearing up slightly.

"Don't do this, please. You're a sweet boy. You don't have to kill them." she pleaded, her voice soft with desperation and sadness. "You're your mother's son. I know you're kinder than your brother. Please."

"I have to. I'll make it quick." he said, lunging at her.

Elia rolled out of the way, paying her decency no mind. She grabbed a candelabra and jumped to her feet. A part of Viserys couldn't help but admire his good sister. Even now. He doubted most ladies would be able to fight in breeches never mind a shift that barely covers their body.

"Viserys please!" she sobbed, tears cascading down her face. "Don't do this! Don't make me hurt you!"

Her pleas went in one ear and out the other, he lunged once more but Elia raised her candelabra and the ring of steel sounded out around the room. Viserys wrenched his hand backwards and slashed for her belly. Elia moved, practically leaping out of the way of the would-be-fatal swipe. She swung the candelabra around her head and aimed for his own, he just managed to block it. But the force of the swing broke his arm too, he growled in pain even though it was dulled slightly from the vibrations the damn thing made. Elia swung the metal stick around again and took out his leg, he fell, landing face first on the floor, he barely noticed the crunch of his nose as his bones break apart. Elia dropped the candelabra and ran from the room and into the dark castle behind her heavy wrought door. Viserys chuckled lowly as he got back to his feet, what had he expected from his good sister? She's always had fire beneath her sweet exterior.

"You can't run forever Elia!" he called out into the echoing halls "I'll find you!"

-

He walked through the slowly lightening hall, his ears preened, picking up every scuffle and every hushed breath. He tutted in annoyance, it'd been five hours and he still hadn't found her, he'll have to move onto his nephews, niece and Lyanna if he can't find her soon. He smirked as he heard the meaty thumps on the ground around the corner form him. Viserys has never been a runner but even the most skeptical of men would swear he'd been gifted the speed of the gods if they had seen him rushing after her. Elia yelped as he knocked her off balanced, straddling her hips and pinning her arms above her.

"NO! GET OFF ME! GET OFF--" her screams became jumbled as he broke her jaw with one quick flick of his wrist. She gasped, new tears of pain joining the ones already there from pure unadultered fear.

"I'm sorry Elia, you're too smart, if I let you live, there's no doubt that you'll cause a rebellion once I kill Aegon and Rhaenys. I wish it could be different. But if they live, my children's place in the inheritance line will always be questioned." he said, grabbing his blade and leveling it with her throat. "I really am sorry." but before he could do it a mailed hand grabbed his broken arm that'd been splintering with pain, even as he lifted his knife and yanked him backwards.

"Prince Viserys!" Arthur Dayne snarled as Elia scrambled backwards and up "What have you done!? What were you planning on doing!? This is treason! Elia go! Get the children and Queen Lyanna."

She nodded sprinting away, Viserys watched the knight above with a barely contained gleam in his eyes, she won't get far.

"I'm the king now Ser Arthur and you've just laid your hands on me. Remember what happened to the last man who did that? Oh, that's right. Ser Jaime is dead." he said, sneering.

"Why would you do this?" he asked, he looked truly lost.

"For the same reason you followed my bastard of a brother to Dorne and protected his whore while your real queen and future one suffered here under my father. Duty. Only it's to my people." he said, smirking as the sounds of screams and the ring of steel began sounding out around them. Arthur looked around his eyes wide with shock and fear. "It seems the lions of Casterly Rock are here."

-

Viserys walked up to his throne, with his lords, ladies and small folk looking at him in awe and respect, Maester Pycelle was by the throne as he stood in front of it, his back unnaturally straight. The smell of burning bodies and the coppery tang of blood wafted into the throne room. His people shifted into the new scent with the reverence the High Septon was given without question. _Fire and blood. Those are the Targaryens' words. This is certainly a good omen._

"All hail King Viserys, Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Long may he reign." the maester called out.

"Long may he reign." his people answered.

Viserys sat on the throne with Cersei beside him and their children around them.

"Thank you, Grand Maester Pycelle, I know that my family has done our realm no favors in recent years. From my father's tyrannical rule that was built on the slaughter of thousands by fire. And how my brother's rule was built on the blood and bodies of thousands of you because he couldn't keep his cock in his pants. He shamed three of the greatest houses of Westeros and indeed the oldest. With the Martells coming from the Rhoyne a thousand years ago, the Baratheons having the blood of the Storm kings running through their veins that were there thousands of years before my ancestor united us. And will be there for a thousand more. As well as the Starks, whose blood traces back to the First Men. I know what my brother did to these houses can never be justified but I would like to start making amends. Starting with rewarding any knight, lord or small folk who can bring me my family." he declared.

His people shouted back in agreement, he smirked softly, they'll be back to him before he knows it and then, he can finally finish what he started. To fire or steel. They will all fall.


	2. Jon I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages of characters and family groupings.
> 
> Rhaegar Targaryen (deceased, may the devil feast on his soul): 39  
> Elia Nymeros Martell: 41  
> Lyanna Targaryen: 38  
> Rhaenys Nymeros Martell Targaryen: 16  
> Aegon Nymeros Martell Targaryen: 14  
> Jaehaerys (Jon) Targaryen: 12
> 
> Eddard Stark: 34  
> Catelyn Stark: 36  
> Theon Greyjoy (adopted): 17  
> Robb Stark: 12  
> Sansa Stark: 9  
> Arya Stark: 6  
> Brandon Stark: 4  
> Rickon Stark: 2
> 
> Viserys Targaryen: 30  
> Cersei Targaryen: 30  
> Joffrey Targaryen: 10  
> Myrcella Targaryen: 5  
> Tommen Targaryen: 4
> 
> Daenerys Targaryen: 11
> 
> Tywin Lannister: 57  
> Tyrion Lannister: 21

Jon often found himself wondering if his uncle hated him and his mother. Considering he's never written to them and on the off chance his father called him to the capital for something or the other. He never bothered to look for him, he just didn't seem to care. He doesn't think he's ever even gotten a nod of acknowledgment from him. Jon stayed as far back as he could, clinging to the shadows as his only protection. He didn't want those furious grey eyes on him. He didn't want to realize what he already knew, that his uncle didn't hate him or his mother, no, he _loathed_ them.

His lady wife was even scarier. She stood proudly in front of the hearth. The fire behind her made her hair burn and blaze as if the strands were flames. Her blue eyes were oceans of hatred, anger and the ever horrible disappointment. She hadn't stopped staring at his mother. Not even once. His aunt Elia was standing back, her arms crossed and her shoulders set as they often were when she was expecting some sort of tongue lashing that she always got from his father when he saw that some of her duties hadn't been done. He, Aegon and Rhaenys had had to stop themselves from snapping back at their father, not after what he did to Jon last time.

"Hello, brother." his mother said, her voice was as strong as it ever was and she stood up far more confidently. An act that she hid behind. Jon knew she was scared, she got that way around his uncle's wife a lot. Cersei was never the kindest but she saved a special sort of venom for his mother and father. She didn't seem to mind that his father was in fact the king. She still snarled at him whenever he walked by. "I'm surprised Winterfell is still standing. You never were one for all those lordly duties."

Jon knew even before his mother had finished her playful jab that it'd been the _wrong_ thing to say. His uncle, who had remained stony faced, the entire time, glared at her furiously. If he hadn't known better, he would say that his uncle had become a wolf in those fleeting seconds. His glare was made up of ravenous hatred and bloodthirsty joy.

"You're right, I wasn't one for lordly duties, that was all Brandon. You remember him don't you? He's the one you murdered." he snarled.

"The Mad King killed Brandon and Father. Not me." she snapped.

"Because you ran off with the crowned prince. A married one with two children at that. It's simply astounding how you have such high standards when it came to Robert but when it came to your pretty prince and all his shiny gold, you suddenly forgot all about them? Isn't that amazing?" he said, his eyes were glowing ominously in the fire light. "You better tell me why you're here Lyanna before I throw you out into the snow."

His mother opened her mouth but Elia stepped forward, cutting her off with a simple raised hand. His mother burnt in anger but she never questioned his aunt Elia, she was the queen after all.

"My lord, the king is dead, Viserys slit his throat as we slept. He tried to kill me too. But we escaped. I have no doubt him and that awful Lannister girl planned this for months. I know we have no right to ask this of you. But I humbly beg that you give us shelter in your Keep. If not for your loyalty to the Crown then for the children?" she said.

His uncle Eddard stared at them for a moment before a slow, incredibly amused smile made its way onto his face.

"How terrible. To the great King Rhaegar the shameless war monger and unapologetic arrogant prick, may he rot in which ever one of your hells is the most painful."

"You think this's funny?" Mother asked. "the king is dead and a monstrous kinslayer sits on the throne! And you just.... Don't give a damn?"

"I've already lived through a monstrous king and a kinslayer stands before me. What's another?" he asked, his voice was as cold as the north he hailed from.

"He would've killed me too." Mother said, desperate for his uncle to give her some other reaction than utter disregard and apathy.

"Would he now? How unfortunate he didn't manage it." he snarled.

Mother's face drained of color and she couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence, she simply bowed her head and moved away from him. Jon stepped forward and hugged her gently. Hatred boiled in his belly for what his uncle's words did to her.

"Jaehaerys." Eddard said, he froze turning to his uncle and almost expecting a hit like his father usually had planned for him. But his uncle was looking him over in a calculated sort of interest. "Come here, let me see you."

Jon looked at his mother and his aunt Elia. Elia nodded, giving him a gentle smile of encouragement as he stepped into the light of the fire. His uncle's eyes glazed over the more he studied his features, he looked as though he'd seen a ghost.

"You look so much like Brandon, I can even see Father in you." he mumbled.

His lady wife stepped forwards and gently rubbed his arm. His uncle glanced down at the stone beneath him, breathing in as deeply as he dared. And despite how he tried to hide them, he saw all his tears fall. Jon felt awful for him though he was still far more angry for how he treated his mother. But he understood why. His grief descended on him like sleep.

"You may stay here. No harm will come to you under my roof. But _you_." he turned those wolf eyes on his mother again. "will stay far away from me.

-

Jon rubbed his hands on the soft fur that made up his room. It was big, much like his room in the Red Keep even though he knew the servants nor his northern family particularly approved of him. His room was still warmer and felt safer than his own room at home, barely any thought was put into that one and all the servants often ignored him when he didn't need them. And his father.... Well, it was better not to talk about him. The same for Joffrey.

He flinched as a knock sounded out against his new room. He furrowed his brows as he opened the door. Wondering who could possibly be looking for him. No one ever actively looked for him in the Keep. Always preferring his sister and brother.

The girl behind the door was stunning. She had a pretty face that was flushed a gentle red from the cold. Her red hair lay snugly around her shoulders in her waves of copper that seemed to truly dance like fire. Her eyes were blue, like the ocean and it seemed they were filled with nothing but kindness. The girl curtsied, even with her hands loaded down with clothes that looked freshly made and she gave him a sweet smile.

"Good morrow Prince Jaehaerys, I'm lady Sansa Stark and my father asked that I show you around the Keep. The servants are so busy, preparing for the lords' counsel in a few days. You'll have to forgive them for their absence." she explained. Her tone was perfectly polite and her courtesies were on point. "A thousand pardons that my older brothers can't show you around but Theon's with Father at the moment and Robb's busy with your big brother while Arya's with your sister. I hope you don't mind."

"There's no need for apologies. I understand completely." Jon said. "I hope showing me around isn't too much trouble my lady."

"No trouble at all My Prince. My mother and I had our seamstress make you some clothes in the northern style. You'll freeze up here in those silks you brought with you." she said. "And please, call me Sansa, we're family."

"Then you must call me Jon. It's what my family call me when my father isn't around." he said. His brows furrowing in anger at the thought of him.

"If it pleases you My Prince. Come. We've got an entire Keep to see!"

-

Winterfell was beautiful, Jon could say that with complete confidence. The architecture reminded him of the castles only the First Men could build. With their round towers and rich history Sansa could tell him from one tiny scratch on a stone in a wall of ten thousand of them. It was astounding and the snow was even better. When he had first seen the drifting flakes as they fell from the sky above. Sansa had laughed at how awestruck he was. They weren't little flakes either. They were so big that he could see the design of each and every one of them.

"Have you never seen snow before, Jon?"

"Not snow like this." he said. Smiling brightly.

He had been memorized by the way the flakes crunched under his new boots as all the little bits of ice broke off. It was another thing he loved about the north. He wondered how his mother could ever leave a place like this for a city like Kingslanding. If he had the choice, he'd choose Winterfell every time.

The thing he loved most about Winterfell, was how different it felt to the Red Keep. There, the castle was always cold and the feeling of detachedness followed him around like smoke. But here it was warm even at night when the winds howled and ice stones banged off the window like phantom fingers. And the servants always had a smile for lady Sansa and even for him. She had brought him around and introduced every one of them and he and his siblings had made it their mission to remember every single one. They wanted to thank them as much as they could before they had to inevitably go back to war.

-

Jon stared up at the face, carved into the weir wood with the care of a mother holding her newborn child. His mother told him that, thousands of years ago, Children of the Forest carved the faces into them so their gods might have eyes to watch over them. He had always thought his mother's gods never existed or if they had, they would've faded away when the Andals landed on the shores of the Vale of Arryn, with their strange gods and stranger practices.

But sitting here. Beneath the tree's ever watchful gaze, he could feel the power in this old place. Feel it in every drift of snow and every waggle of the tree's leaves. Sometimes, he even thought he heard a wolf howling in the distance along with a dragon but in the end, it'd always be his imagination.

"I don't think you ever visited the Sept this much baby brother." Aegon said, walking towards him over the snow. "I didn't realize you were a pious man."

"I wasn't but there's something different about this place. Can't you sense it?" he asked turning his head as he settled down next to him on the ice. "Something the Sept in Kingslanding just... Doesn't have?"

Aegon nodded, humming as he traced the weeping face in thought.

"You seem like you have something on your mind." Jon said. His brows furrowed as his older brother tried to fuse all his shattered thoughts together.

"Mother says that we may not be able to take Kingslanding. At least not for a while. She and uncle Ned-" his uncle had insisted they called them that when he and his siblings kept addressing him as Lord Stark. He'd been wrong about his uncle, he didn't hate him, he hated his mother and after the quick lesson Winterfell's maester had given him on the rebellion he can't say he blames him. Though he still dislikes him for it. "-said that the soldiers around the north would take at least six moons to gather in the mass they'd need to take Kingslanding, that's if he could convince them to fight, his lords aren't all that willing to help Aunt Lyanna, not after all the death she and our father caused. And considering uncle Viserys is yet to do something truly terrible they don't see much of a point fighting in a war for a family they've had no love for."

Jon nodded. He can't say that he's surprised by this, his mother and father had gotten a lot of people killed. How are they to know that Aegon won't be the exact same as the ones who came before them? Rhaegar lost whatever trust the Stormlands and the North had in them the second they killed his uncle and grandfather and the Mad King ordered Jon Arryn to bring him his uncle and his best friends' head.

"Are you surprised by that?" he asked.

"No, not even a little. Will you be alright here? If we have to stay a while?" he asked.

Jon thought of the snow, of his cousins. Robb and Theon with their shining swords and mastery of archery, Sansa with her copper hair and sweet smile with her slight calluses from swinging her sword and sewing up clothes all day. Arya, the wildest wolf in Winterfell and how she was the making of a brilliant swordswoman, Bran and his way of climbing and giving his mother daily heart attacks. And baby Rickon who clung to his leg, babbling to him and Sansa excitedly about everything and anything a 2 year old could think of.

Then he thought of the Godswood where nature and magic came alive. And of all the servants in Winterfell and how they'd smile at him and build his fires even while he slept.

"You know. I think I will be." he said. Smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Ned is not a happy camper. Like at all. And the north's as bitter as their winds. Considering Viserys won the throne through Conquest. It's gonna take quite a bit for someone to convince them to help the wayward Targaryens. Think about it, what would you of done if you had to keep the person who killed thousands of your friends safe and then she had the gall to ask you to help her take back her husband's throne. Tell me honestly what you would've done. Because I know I wouldn't be so kin to help. 
> 
> Ned, living his best life right now. Enjoying the fact that Rhaegar is dead. But still caring towards Lyanna's son because he's innocent of the crimes his parents committed. And the illusions to Rhaegar and Jon's relationship, they don't seem that great do they? And Jon feeling like an outsider in his own home (meaning the Red Keep) but already falling in love with all his mad cousins. (Theon is a Stark and I will die on that hill)
> 
> Thank you for reading and for all the comments on the last chapter. That was beyond unexpected. Thank you so much!


	3. Cersei I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Tell me what you guys thought about getting a look around Cersei's mind and your thoughts on Viserys' plan. Hope you enjoyed it.

She hated him, her husband. She hated his silver hair and lilac eyes. She hated the brat too, that Daenerys, the girl had always managed to send shivers down her spine. Especially since her sweet Myrcella had come to her, sobbing about how the whelp had told her that her sweet Jaime deserved worse for what he did to the brat's family. She hated how her body reacted to his poisoned cock, she hated how her moans had become more heartfelt as the years had gone by. And on some of her darker days, she hated how Joffrey and Tommen had gotten his colouring, the colouring that had killed their true father in cold blood, she hardly knew what kept her standing in those moments. Sometimes she wanted nothing more than to slice the bastard's throat and watch as his blood weeped from the bloody smile. And then she'd remember that she needed him, his time would come, but as of now, Joffrey was far too young to be king and inexperienced, her father would begin his lessons on the morrow and by the time he was fifteen, he'd be ready and he had promised her that she could have the honor of taking his life. But until then, she had to pretend, she had to put on her painted smile, she had to ride his filthy cock and appease him. She had to be a good wife but just for a little while longer.

"Viserys." she moaned, throwing her head back and allowing her breasts to brush against his naked chest. "you've grown hungry, my love."

For all her hatred that boiled in her belly, she still had needs and loath as she was to admit. He was more than satisfactory in the marriage bed. Even on the night of their wedding, he hadn't disappointed, though back then, she saw only Jaime. Oh, how she missed him, his soft curls and playful smile, the way he could bring her on a high that no one else could do. He would've been such a good father too, he would've doted on their little lioness and taught their sons to be strong. But Jaime was dead and all she had was his murderer, with his hands still stained in his blood.

"I have grown hungry? I think you may need to have a glance in the mirror, darling." he chuckled, tangling his fingers in her curls, she could already feel him growing hard and wanting as he sucked at her neck. "we have a right to be happy, Rhaegar is dead and his children will soon follow, it's the start of a new era."

She leaned forward and captured his salty lips in hers, she hated how his lips felt, she mused, they have always been cold. Like a corpse's, red as blood with a tang of salt and metal on his tongue. They felt as though they were conquering her, even when she was the one on top, to her, it seemed as though Viserys was reminding her that no matter how high she built herself up, he would always be there to remind her that she was still the same helpless girl in the crowd, watching as Rhaegar beheaded her brother, her soulmate, and being utterly helpless to stop him.

"Show me." she whispered in his ear.

He smirked against her skin before he grabbed her belly and turned her around with an iron grip, she knew there'd be bruises tomorrow, but it'd always been that way after their first coupling. She supposed it was just another thing to hate about him and to miss about Jaime, in all their couplings, Jaime had always been gentle, making sure she was alright, murmuring in her ear to tell him if he was being too hard. With Viserys, there was no such custom. She was the bitch and he the wolf, he'll take her however he wanted and woe be her if it hurt. She remembered how she told him once that it had hurt, it was a long time ago now, perhaps the day after their wedding if she wanted to be precise. And all he had said was 'it's the dragon's way Cersei, you'll have to get use to it. My father and mother were the same.', she decided that it might be better if she kept the fact that the king raped his mother to herself.

-

Cersei glanced over her little brother in annoyance as he waddled inside the room, there was once a time where she loathed the sight of her baby brother, but that had been a long time ago, before everything that happened with Jaime. And now he was the only brother left to her. He had still killed her mother. But she admitted, he still had his uses, particularly his brain. And he loved her children, which she supposed was all she could really ask for. He may hate her, just as she does him. But he would fight for her little dragons. And that was all that mattered. Cersei gave her father a smile as he followed in behind Tyrion. Tywin Lannister was every inch as impressive as he was at 20 as he is at 57

"Sweet sister." he greeted, giving her his mischievous grin, gracing her with a kiss on the cheek. "being a queen suits you, all your arrogance is finally paying off."

"Tyrion, ever the clever little imp." she drawled back sarcastically.

"I prefer to think of it as keeping your terribly boring life, interesting." he said before he turned to her husband and bowed, keeping his face as serious as he could make it. "Your Grace."

"Tyrion Lannister, I've heard much about you." he said, not bothering to turn and greet them, seemingly fascinated by the sound of her sons training beneath them.

"If they were from Cersei, I can assure you that most of them are false." he said, ever the cheerful dwarf.

Viserys chuckled airily before he turned around, gracing them with a smile she knows made almost every serving girl (and the odd boy too) flustered, but such beauty has never phased her brother and father.

"Lord Tywin." he said, bowing his head in acknowledgement, her father gave him a bow back, as stiff and unfeeling as it was. "I hope you found your chambers to your liking."

"They'll do, now, you called us here to discuss your nephews and niece?" he asked, sitting at the end of the table with Viserys and her taking the other end and Tyrion sitting in between them. "As long as they live, your position as king will be questioned. But if you were to kill them--"

"It would turn all of Dorne against me, though I'm not sure about the North, Eddard Stark is more like to send me a letter thanking me for it. We all know how much he despises the wild queen." he said.

Cersei remembered that only too well, the last she saw of the great and honorable Eddard Stark, had been before Rhaegar had sent out the troops to handle that ridiculous rebellion the Ironborn tried to stage. And he had not left the room happy, and when she asked Viserys about it later, her husband even looked mildly horrified as he explained that Rhaegar had threatened Prince Jaehaerys, his own child, if he wouldn't take part. She could never imagine threatening her children so casually. But then again, she wasn't a Targaryen. And thank the gods above she wasn't.

"You'd have to kill Princess Elia too, the people adore her and if her son won't cause a rebellion, she certainly would." Tyrion added in.

"If I may add, you remember the power the boy Jaehaerys has over Lord Stark, if we were to kill him, we'd have the north coming for us, no matter how he was born, Jaehaerys is a Stark, bound to them through blood and the north remembers." she said.

"You've all brought up excellent points, which is why, I need them to be brought to me _alive_. It'd increase morale among the people if I were to deliver them Lyanna Targaryen's head on a spike, she's the one that should be _shown_ as they say. As for the others, I intend to bring them back to the Keep." he said.

"And keep them alive?" she asked, her brows furrowed in surprise.

"Yes and no." he said. "I'll bring them back to the Keep and then accidents will begin to happen, one for Elia and one for Aegon. But Jaehaerys and Rhaenys need to be spared. Leverage. If Dorne and the north begin asking questions, then I'll gladly send them their pieces."

"And if they begin to gather forces before we can find them?" her father asked, not expecting him to answer.

"Then I'll already have ten more, starting with the Stormlands." he said. Picking up a dragon piece and placing it on the Storm's End. "I hear Stannis Baratheon has a young daughter and for someone who's always been in his elder brother's shadow, who would want to turn down having their daughter be a princess?"

-

Cersei stared out at her children, Joffrey was beside Daenerys and they were both watching as Tommen and Myrcella raced around the garden. Their eyes were shadowed but she got the impression that they were annoyed by the younger of Joffrey's siblings. But she found their light endearing, she wanted to remember the look of innocence on her sweet boy's face. After all, if Viserys and her father had their way, she would lose him within the year. One of the only pieces of Jaime that she had left...gone.

" _It must be done Cersei._ " her father had beseeched her. " _sacrifices must be made and Tommen is one of them._ "

How horrid the gods are. To feed on the innocent when there's already so many horrid people in the world. Why is it that it must be them? Why is it that her children must be the playing pieces? It isn't fair.

_But you already knew that, didn't you? Since the day they lobbed off Jaime's head._


	4. Sansa I

Sansa has never known her father to hate so blindly. She supposed it shouldn't come as much of a surprise, considering everyone, even someone as brave, gentle and strong as her father still feels such things. It doesn't make seeing it any less shocking.

Sansa glanced up when the door of her room is slowly pushed open, revealing Bran, with baby Rickon. The 4 year old was rubbing his eyes angrily, trying to clear away his tears.

"Bran?" she whispered, the stone was cold underfoot as she walked across it, kneeling down to see him properly. "Another bad dream, sweetling?"

He nodded, biting his lips worriedly. He kept glancing over his shoulder, as if he was expecting some monster to come screaming from the shadows, ready to gobble sweet boys up, like Old Nan use to tell them.

"It's the dragon again." he admitted as he and Rickon curl up against her under the covers. "The big white one. He burnt Rickon tonight. I had to make sure he was safe but I think I only scared him. I didn't mean to and I can't go by Father's solar. Lady Lyanna's always inside and they're always yelling. It sounds like the dragon."

Sansa nodded, listening to him carefully, she wondered if she'd be allowed to give them the milk of the poppy to have him sleep easier? But Luwin said that it'd only been for emergency. To use on gravely wounded soldiers.

"Did he say anything, little knight? Like in your other dreams?" she asked. He nodded, burrowing his face into her copper curls, as if they could give him all the safety he needed.

"He said, "'They will bow or they will burn. I am above their gods. I will paint the snow red with their blood."'"

-

Sansa hummed softly as she walked towards her aunt's room, she knows that she caused so much anger and heartbreak for her father and uncle. But she was still her family and more over a queen, her Septa had taught her that all royalty must be respected, no matter what their reputation was. The knock rang out along the frigid hallway, sounding like a wall tumbling down in the horrid silence.

Prince Jon swung open the door, his grey eyes with a dash of purple widened upon seeing her there.

"Who is it Jon?" aunt Lyanna asked, her voice was rough as if she'd just woken up or as if she'd been crying for the better part of an hour.

"The Lady Sansa, mother." he called back. Lyanna stood from her chair and glanced her over, amazed to see her. It seemed as if Sansa had hung her moon and made her stars shine.

Sansa dipped into a curtsy allowing her copper curls to slide down her shoulders and rustle with the fabric of her dress.

"Winterfell is yours, Your Grace." she practiced, remembering how her Septa had drilled that into her since she could walk. Sansa held up a white rose that shined like a miniature sun in her hands. "A gift for you, Queen Aunt. Uncle Benjen said they use to be your favorite."

Lyanna smiled gently as she took it, tracing the petals as if they were butterfly wings and the simplest twitch would snap them in two.

"Thank you, My Lady." she said. "I will treasure such a gift."

Sansa gave her a beaming smile back.

-

"Lady Sansa." a new voice called.

She turned around and curtsied before the princess Rhaenys. The girl was every inch her Dornish mother. Sansa wondered if she was a bad girl, like Arya sometimes was when she got her stitches crooked, if she was glad none of the king's children looked particularly like him? She knows that she shouldn't think so ill of the king, especially seeing as she's never met him personally. But how could anyone like him really? Rhaegar had torn their country apart because he wanted three children instead of the two he had.

Arya had said that he'd angered his 'pretty gods' down south so much when he disgraced his wife at the tourney that the whole country had to pay for it. Theon said that it seemed as if the silver prince couldn't help but wet his cock once he saw his aunt's pretty face, he'd called him a "fucking bastard of an animal" too. He had told her never to tell their father that he'd said that.

And her father.... If there was someone in the world that he hated more than Aunt Lyanna, it had definitely been Rhaegar. Her father seemed to barely contain his fury when the "bastard of an animal" came up. Her father would disappear in those moments, leaving only a ravenous wolf in his place.

Princess Rhaenys rolled her eyes and gently pulled her back to her feet.

"Please. There's no need to curtsy, we're family, are we not?"

"Um..." Sansa stuttered. What could she say? Should she tell her that they weren't? Should she agree? She didn't want her to get angry...

"I'm not that scary am I?" she asked, chuckling.

"No! Of course not! Forgive me Princess, you simply caught me off guard."

"No need for apologies, my brothers often say I can get the best of people at times, and you're Jon's family, any family of Jon is family of ours." she said, grinning. "Besides, _technically_ through marriage, you are indeed my cousin."

"Yes...I suppose we are." Sansa admitted, rather shyly.

"I hear you and your mother sew with the Ladies of the Keep every midday, do you think they'd mind much if I joined you? After all, you are all my brother and I's people. We should get to know you all if we want to rule you."

Sansa's face scrunched up in disgust at the thought of her cousins' marrying each other. Rhaenys laughed at her look, practically bent over with how many tremors were rushing through her.

"Oh, sweet girl! Not like that! I'm to be my brother's hand!"

Sansa sighed, letting out a relieved breath and the weight that'd come with the disgust.

"Honestly, my brother's wonderful but I wouldn't marry him! Not even if someone threatened to burn me with dragonfire!" she said.

"That's good to hear." Sansa admitted. "Come, the sewing circle's this way."

_Perhaps.... They're not so bad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't see Sansa, the most polite of all Ned + Cat's kids wanting her aunt's blood, especially for a part of history that Luwin is yet to explain to her and the younger ones fully.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


	5. Myrcella I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, sweet Myrcella, let me know what you think! Thanks again for all the comments and kudos, I have to admit, they really shocked me, in a good way of course. *bows head* Arigato

Myrcella has always been the quietest of all her father and mother's children (including aunt Daenerys, which she found unfair) and she had always been the one who preferred to curl up next to her cousin Rhaenys and listen to her as she read her stories about creatures with tails for legs, fairies, warriors, dragons and she even managed to squeeze some lions in there too. She always liked sitting on Aegon's lap as he did his letters with Maester Pycelle and how he'd encourage her curiosity even though the maester had said it was improper. She preferred watching her cousin Jon as he excelled his brother in combat and how he chose moments to play with her and Tommen and how, without fail, he'd always make her smile when she didn't want to be around Joffrey or Daenerys and wanted to avoid them (which wasn't very hard seeing as they were always together).

But she hated the silence now, it was a silence so heavy and damning that she wondered if this's what one of the hells felt like. She hated walking by Jon's empty room when she always expected to hear his call for her to join him as they played dolls. She hated sitting silently with her Septa when Rhaenys's ghost sat beside her, with her warm smile and gentle looks as she corrected her stitching slightly and praised what she'd gotten right. She hated sitting with Daenerys as Pycelle made sure they were reading correctly with Aegon's soft, teasing voice that reminded her of Father as he helped her sound out the more complicated words. She hated how the whole city mourned for Queen Elia when she could still see her sitting on the throne as she listened to all her people as they came to her with complaints. Her patient smile and even kinder eyes. She even missed Lyanna, and how she'd call out encouragement to her son, even though she was meant to be helping Elia. She missed her ineptness you could say.

This silence was damning and all she wanted was for it to end along with all her feelings of longing for a family that Joffrey said she'd never get back.

-

"When are Jon, Aegon, Rhae and Elia coming home?" Tommen asked Ser Arthur Dayne, pulling on his sleeve for attention. Ser Arthur's eyes became shadowed and Myrcella watched with a frown as he seemed unable to meet their eyes. "Father said that they'd be home soon but they've been gone for ages, it's not fair, I wanted to play knights with Jon."

"I know it's not fair, little prince." Ser Arthur said, rustling her brother's white blonde hair. "But your cousins will be home soon. Your father will see to that."

"His name is _Jaehaerys_ ," aunt Daenerys snapped, holding her head high and tossing her curls behind her shoulders, Myrcella thought she looked like one of those women her uncle Tyrion brings to the Keep, "why does everyone insist on such a... _northern_ name? He's a prince."

"And he's also of the north Aunt Daenerys." Myrcella said, keeping her posture straight even when those crackling lilac eyes buried into her very soul. "He's a northern prince and a good one, he always plays with Tommen and I. He promised he'd play with us and he always keeps his promises like the Starks, his other family."

"He's not from those people." she scoffed back. "They're all savages and Jaehaerys isn't one."

"I wouldn't say my sister's wrong. He's thick skulled enough to be one." Joffrey said, laughing. "If he's not already dead then the trip north or the people there would've torn him to shreds, being that whore's his mother. World's better off that way."

"Prince Joffrey!" Ser Arthur barked, rage in his eyes. "That's no way to speak of anyone much less a prince and your family!"

"He's no family of mine. He left."

Myrcella jumped to her feet, her blonde curls flew in all directions, the sun winked blindingly off them and her cheeks were warm in all her anger, it was awful, as though if she didn't scream at him then she'd surely explode with all her pores bleeding, like that disease in Sothoryos that Tommen and she had found interesting.

"They're coming back! All of them! And then you'll be sorry! Jon and Aegon were always better than you anyway!"

Myrcella grabbed Tommen's hand and ran from the courtyard with Ser Arthur's yell at their backs, her little brother was small but he managed to keep up, they never wanted to see them again after all they'd done. She didn't know why but she led them both to the Godswood, she remembered how Lyanna had said once that, compared to Winterfell, this place felt dead but it was the only place where neither Joffrey nor Daenerys would come look for them, it unsettled them, she remembered. Her little brother rubbed his eyes furiously as his tears streamed down, now that no one was here to insult him for it.

"Are they never coming back?" Tommen whimpered.

Myrcella didn't answer straight away, she didn't know what she could say, she was only little, how would she know how to comfort her little brother like Rhaenys did? But she had to try, somehow.

"Remember the day before they disappeared?" she asked, laying her back against the dead tree with too perfect features that reminded her of Rhaegar and how awful he could be to his son.... "Do you remember his promise?"

"He was going to teach me how to use my first practice sword...he even had mine ready for the morrow." he whispered.

"That's right, and Jon always keeps his promises, no matter how long it takes. He'll be back and he'll teach you everything. Just like Aegon will teach me High Valyrian and Rhaenys all her pretty songs. They always keep their promises, they can't die knowing that they didn't." she said.

"Really?"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"No...I suppose not." he admitted, laying his head on her shoulders, his long hair tickling her skin.

_Lyanna once said that Our Gods have no power in the north. That it was all Your territory. Please don't let me lie to him, please keep my family safe even if they're not all believers, I have enough for all of us. Let them come home._

And for the first time since she had been to this dead wood. The whispering of wind answered.

-

Myrcella tilted her head to the side as a man with a forked beard and two servants in collars came before the throne, the man was so fat he'd of put Aegon the Unworthy to shame and from the way he was staring unpleasantly at her mother, she could only conclude he had the same appetite as the Fat King.

"Who are you?" Father called from his throne, he seemed small in comparrison to all the twisted blades. "And why have you come?"

"I heard an inkling that a king might be looking for some weapons for a war, just across the sea in Pentos. I also heard that this King might be a Targaryen." he said, his voice was sweet but in a boot licker sort of way.

"And if this king was?" he said, his eyes narrowed.

"Then I would give the king a gift, something invalueble for the war to come." he said.

"And what should you want in return?"

"A favor here, a favor there. Or simply, if I were to call on you for aid that you'd come." he said, flourishing his hands dramatically.

"Well, that would depend on the gift." her father said.

"Of course, bring it up front."

The two servants bowed at her father's feet and pushed the chest towards him, opening the top delicately as though they were handling glass. Myrcella stared at the stones in confusion but her father gasped, standing up from his throne with his jaw dropped low.

"Dragon eggs from the Shadowlands-beyond-Asshai, Your Grace. I do hope you find them useful."


	6. Lyanna I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's everyone's favorite idiot, y'all ready for this? Did I mention Rhaegar was an absolute bastard?

Lyanna didn't know what she'd been expecting once she came home, but her brother and his infuriated silence? His lady wife and her disgusted glances? Her nephews and nieces, apart from Sansa she smiled as she caught sight of the rose that she'd given her still as fresh as the day she'd gotten it, ignoring her or, in Theon's case, sending unapologetic insults her way? Somehow those thoughts had never even be considered. And really, why should she of considered them? Their father had raised her and her brothers to always put family first and unlike other houses with those values, such as the Tullys, their father had meant for them to uphold them. She didn't understand why her brother suddenly turned his back on it, she didn't understand why, a Greyjoy of all people, someone who wasn't even a Stark or remotely related to them, was treated better than she was. It aggravated her on a level that she hadn't thought possible.

"Mother." Jon said suddenly.

Lyanna smiled gently at her son, he had gotten so big over these last few moons, his hair was to his shoulders, looking as though it'd reach Aegon's length before long, his skin was glowing with health and she hadn't seen him get as many bruises from training since they had got here. That was the one good thing about Winterfell, she supposed. Jon was happier than he'd ever been in the Red Keep, she wished she felt the same.

"Yes, my love?"

"Uncle Ned needs to see you and Aunt Elia, he said it's really important."

 _Uncle Ned._ She smiled at him thinly, trying to stop her poisonous jealousy from rearing its beastly head. _How precious, my brother tells my son to call him Uncle Ned and yet he doesn't even want to bother with me._ But that wasn't Jon's fault, of course it wasn't, she'd taken to scolding Jon less and less over the years, considering Rhaegar had always said he'd take care of it. How was she meant to do this without him?

"Did he tell you what it was?"

"No, he just said that there's something he wants to talk to you and Aunt Elia about. Can I go to the Wintertown today with Theon, Robb and Aegon? They want to show me around and meet some other children my age, Sansa says they're really nice."

"Of course, mind you're careful though, won't you?" she asked, stroking his cheek gently and frowning when she saw him flinch slightly, she had hoped he'd break that habit, but it seemed to have only gotten worse with age.

"Yes Mother, Uncle Ned says he wants you both in his solar."

_He shouldn't be ordering me to go anywhere, last I knew, I was still his queen._

-

Lyanna carefully opened the door and slid in beside Elia. Her brother and his wife were already waiting for them and immediately she could tell from the furious glares they both had on their faces that whatever they were about to tell her something terrible, she had to wonder if it had something to do with her. _It usually always does._ she noted bitterly.

"My Lord, my lady." Elia said, bowing her head to them in respect, even though she shouldn't have to, considering they were the royal ones here, not her brother and his wife. "My son said you wanted to talk to us about something, he seemed rather upset and unsettled, has Viserys threatened the North?"

Her brother's wife's face softened, if only slightly. But of course it did, seeing as it was _perfect, brilliant, gorgeous_ Elia talking.

"Jon got hurt in training, the other day. You at least have the common decency to know that don't you, Lyanna?" Catelyn asked, turning her blazing eyes on hers for the first time since she'd gotten here.

"I didn't know you knew my name." she muttered back.

"How could I not? After all, you're the one who got my father killed." Catelyn hissed, more like growled.

"Your father died fighting." she spat back, she hadn't even known he'd fallen until Rhaegar had given her permission to leave the tower in Dorne. "I had nothing to do with that."

"Of course, because you were a pampered little whore weren't you?" she hissed, her hands were balled into fists and Lyanna could hear her bones cracking and creaking from her rage. And she was far too frightened to snap back at her. "Did your dashing prince Charming whisper to you in the night that it wasn't your fault? That you'd done the work of the gods? That all those lives, every single one of them that you wasted, from soldiers fighting to starving children, were worth it?"

Lyanna sneered at her, hatred burnt in the bowels of her belly but before she could send her own tongue lashing back at her, her brother spoke up from his place in front of the hearth.

"Cat." his voice was soft but firm, clearly he had thought that this wasn't the time for a fight and Elia looked as though she agreed. "That's not what I called her here for."

"Then why have you called me? Just to send my insults my way even though I'm your queen?" Lyanna hissed darkly.

"I can assure you." he turned to look at her darkly. "That you are no queen of mine."

Lyanna's mouth slammed shut and she couldn't think of an answer for her brother or for his fury, as if he'd listen anyway.

"My nephew's been hurt and I don't have time for one of your temper tantrums." he continued, sneering so darkly that she was surprised she was still breathing at this point.

"Didn't the maester heal him? Jon said it wasn't that bad." Elia said, her brows furrowing in worry. _He's my son, he doesn't need your worry._

"His cut wasn't that bad." Catelyn admitted, "but that's not what we're talking about, when Luwin cleaned his cut he saw other ones on his back...scars, he gave him a full examination and he said that he has reason to believe that one of his ribs had been broken in the past--"

"--that was from training with Aegon." Lyanna cut in, not liking her implications. "If you think me so heartless that I'd harm my own son--"

"--I wasn't talking about you!" she cut in savagely. "And that broken rib wasn't from training, someone much bigger than him shattered it."

"What are you saying?" Elia asked, her usual tanned skin turning ghastly pale in seconds.

"How much do you know about the bastard, your children and my nephew, My Queen?" Ned asked, his brows furrowing in fear.

-

Lyanna glanced at her sleeping son beside her as he curls around his wolf toy that Aegon had gotten him from the market place today. Her son looked so sweet when he was sleeping, as if thousands of years of worry and fear finally gave him some rest. She hadn't considered that before...how much more at ease he was when he was sleeping. Lyanna slowly lifted his shirt and saw the start of a jagged scar on his back. But he had told her before that'd been from when he and Aegon had fallen into some brambles. Her mind vaguely flickered back to the time he'd given her that answer. She remembered, Aegon had been carrying him around that day, not willing to leave him, not even for a second and glaring viciously at anyone who came within ten feet of Jon. Even she'd been under scrutiny.

"Mother?" Jon sleepily mumbled, making her drop his shirt in shock. "What's the matter?"

"How did you get that scar on your back, again sweetling?" she asked, carassing his hair gently.

"Hm? Aegon and I were training." he muttered before he dozed back off.

_He gave me a different answer..._


End file.
